


Singing Foolishly

by Codadilupo



Category: The Last Unicorn (1982), The Last Unicorn - All Media Types, The Last Unicorn - Peter S. Beagle
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I LOVE THIS SONG - Freeform, I had nothing to do, Romance, Schmendrick singing alone, These two make me squee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24910195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codadilupo/pseuds/Codadilupo
Summary: Molly catches Schmendrick singing alone.
Relationships: Molly Grue/Schmendrick
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Singing Foolishly

**Author's Note:**

> I reuploaded it from Fanfiction.net, I only used a different nickname (AlehopCatine: I'm the same person).  
> I'm currently writing another Schmendrick fanfiction and, as I need music to focus, I happened to listen to Daniel Khan's Yiddish version of Leonard Cohen's "Halleluja". I immediately wrote down this short story: I don't know why, but I really like the idea of Schmendrick being fluent in Yiddish.  
> All the characters belong to their original creator, as do the lyrics (I just changed a word for the story's sake, writing 'shmendryk' instead of 'shiluye').

One of Molly’s favorite things was to listen to Schmendrick sing when he was convinced he was alone. Not that he never sang in front of her, but when he thought that no one was listening to him, his voice had such a touch of sweetness and light-heartedness he tended to lose when he sang with other people.

That day, she caught him singing as he was reorganizing his books. Molly hid behind the door with a smile. Schmendrick had placed his hat on a chair and had pulled his sleeves up, almost dancing among the piles of books he was putting back on the shelves. Molly snickered, amused: she loved those moments during which Schmendrick acted so silly and merry.

Molly couldn’t understand a word of his song; it was the very first time she had ever heard him sing that way. If Molly had got it right, it was probably the language from which Schmendrick’s name came from, but she didn’t know he could actually speak it.

The words sounded funny and sweet at the same time, like a lazy stream of water running through a forest in an early summer afternoon. They sounded warm, gentle, and soothing… they suited Schmendrick perfectly.

The magician was carefully dusting a few spell books that seemed quite old, still singing to himself. At that moment, he seemed to have lost his usual clumsiness. He had a particularly sweet expression on his face as he softly sang the next verse:

_“O tayere, ikh ken dayn stil,_

_Ikh bin geshlofn af dayn dil,_

_Kh'hob keynmol nisht gelebt mit aza tsnue…”_

“What does it mean?” Molly couldn’t help herself anymore, intrigued, and moved by Schmendrick’s expression and voice.

Startled, Schmendrick jumped so suddenly that he knocked off a pile of books and bumped an elbow against one of the shelves with a faint curse. _Yes_ , Molly thought, amused. _Here’s my real, old Schmendrick._ Catching his breath, he rose his green eyes on his companion. “Molly, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. What were you singing? What did the words mean?” she went to him and held his hands. The magician blushed. “Oh… you were listening?” he stammered. Molly nodded, smiling.

“It sounded so beautiful, and you looked so happy and peaceful as you sang, especially right before I interrupted you.”

Schmendrick still looked a little awkward. He picked back up some of the books he had knocked off and put them on the shelves, muttering. “It was nothing… Just an old song I remembered and-”

“Please?” Molly’s tawny eyes met the magician’s green ones. He sighed. “You really want to know, huh?” Molly nodded, still smiling. Schmendrick cleared his throat. “Alright… The last lines you heard me sing could translate as:

_Oh, beloved, I know your style,_

_I’ve slept on your floor,_

_I’d never lived with such a treasure of a woman…”_

He stopped, blushing again and looking away. Molly chuckled and held him, snuggling against him. “Why do you look so embarrassed, you blockhead? That’s actually very sweet, nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Schmendrick smiled, timidly, and leaned to give Molly a quick kiss on the forehead. She held his hand. “Will you keep on for me? You sound lovely singing in that language… I’ll help you here.” She let go of him and started picking up books.

The magician hesitated, then he resumed singing, his voice, shivering at first, becoming gradually more confident:

_“Un dos iz alts, s'iz nisht keyn sakh._

_Ikh makh dervayle vos ikh makh._

_Ikh kum do vi a mentsh,_

_nisht keyn shmendryk.”_

Molly snickered and turned to look at him. “I only understood your name,” she said, as Schmendrick smiled back at her. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing in particular, just:

_And that’s all, it’s not a lot,_

_In the meantime, I’ll do what I do_

_I come here like a mensch_

_Not a fool.”_

Molly put down the books she was holding and hugged him again. Schmendrick promptly wrapped her in his arms, stroking her head gently. “You are my fool. You will always be my Schmendrick," she said, leaning onto him with her eyes closed.


End file.
